Life Goes On, John
by gopadfoot
Summary: John is grieving, and Sherlock is drowning. A brave pathologist decides that enough is enough. Set after The Six Thatchers.


"Tell him what I said, Molly," John insisted. "And use my exact words."

Molly bit her lips. There was no way she could do that, and not only because she didn't feel comfortable swearing.

"Tell him I said he should-"

"I heard you the first time, John," she said, with an edge to her voice.

John was staring at a point beyond her. "No, he is," he told that point, and Molly restrained the urge to turn around and see what was there. She knew there was nothing there.

John was crumbling, fast. He wasn't eating, or sleeping, or doing much of anything really. She would try handing Rosie to him, and he would look, not at his daughter, but through her. "I can't do this," he would whisper. And then, one time, he repeated himself, but added one more word.

"I can't do this, Mary," he had said, and Molly had realized what, or rather who, was always standing beyond her shoulder, communicating with John as if she had never left him.

"Give him this note, too," John told her with grim determination.

Though the note was folded in fours, Molly could make out the harsh black ink that bled through, and the small tears where the pen had been pushed with too much force. A shiver of apprehension ran through her spine. She held the small white paper in her hand gingerly, with all the caution of a live grenade.

"Don't you think this is a bit... much, John?" she asked softly.

There was no response. John was, once again, staring at what couldn't be seen.

* * *

Sherlock came around, several days later.

She took a good look at him. He looked as bad as John did. No, worse.

John was a broken man. Sherlock was a desparate one. A drowning man, flailing about as he gasped for breath, clutching at straws. She could think of several more clichés, all of them fitting. Dread settled in her stomach.

"I just...wondered how things were going and...if there was anything I could do," the detective said quietly, forlornly.

Her heart clenched. There was only one thing she could bring herself to say. "John needs you," she said. "But first, he needs time. Give him some time, Sherlock. It will be alright."

He smiled sadly, knowingly. As if he knew that she knew that she was feeding him lies. "Please, call me. If there's anything he needs, or wants, I'll be there."

"Of-Of course," she stammered, unable to look him in the eye. He smiled at her and Rosie, again, and walked away with long, determined strides. She went back inside, took the envelope with the note from her pocket, and threw it into the fireplace.

Two weeks later, she received a call from the consulting detective. "Molly, I need you to come with a fully equipped ambulance. In two weeks from now, at the address I'm going to give you." She didn't bother asking questions, knowing she wouldn't recieve any answers.

She worried. Sherlock was up to one of his schemes. And he didn't have John Watson to back him up. She worried even more, when she saw what John had become. He needed Sherlock in his life, as much as he would never admit it.

She put Rosie to sleep, and then made tea. She urged John to sit down at the table, and sat down across from him. "This has gone on long enough, John," she said bluntly. "I can't stand to see both of you suffering. You need him as much as he needs you."

John set down his teacup forcefully, causing it to spill recklessly over the table. "Oh, so now he's _suffering._ Remind me again, who is the one that lost his wife, and who is the one that killed her-"

There wasn't even a moment of hesitation as Molly's petite hand flew up to John's cheek, landing with a ringing _slap._

"Enough! You're going too far, John Watson. How dare you speak of your best friend that way! After all he did to keep you safe! You will never, ever, speak that way about Sherlock Holmes again, do you hear me?"

Looking at the doctor, Molly wondered whether she had gone too far. He was pale, slack-jawed, and trembling. He stared at her in shock for several moments, before he spoke up, weakly. "You couldn't possibly understand, Molly Hooper. I lost my wife. I lost Mary, and it was his fault!"

"Oh?" the pathologist responded, her voice ice cold. "I couldn't possibly understand? Let me tell you this, John Watson, you aren't the first person to have lost someone they loved. I lost my father when I was thirteen years old. Barely a teenager. And you know what else? I lost my mother, too. She's still alive, by the way. Do you want to know how I lost her?"

John kept his eyes firmly on the table. Molly continued, relentlessly. "She was so busy mourning, that she didn't realize that she wasn't the only one in pain. She couldn't reach beyond her grief to see how much I needed her. Our relationship was never the same again. She lost me as much as I lost her."

John was at loss for words. He finally managed to bleat out, "But he made a vow..."

Molly looked at him sadly. "Oh, John, don't you think he did his best to keep it? Look me in the eye, and tell me that he didn't turn over the world to keep all three of you safe."

John didn't. He couldn't. "But why did she do it? Why did she leave me, all alone?"

"Because she wanted to save the one man who constantly saved her. The one man who would do everything to keep you and Rosie safe. And you, instead of wallowing in self-pity and crying poor me, need to honor her sacrifice, and forgive the man she loved enough to sacrifice herself for."

"I, I can't do this. No." John shook his head in agony, as a sob tore out of his throat. Molly quickly put her arms around him, and held him tight as he keener for everything he had lost. "You're a good man, John Watson. You will do the right thing in the end. I just don't want it to happen too late."

"No, not.. a good..man," John sobbed.

"Yes, you are. Mary would have been proud."

She let him cry himself out, and then smiled gently. "Think it over, John. And remember, I believe in John Watson."

 **A/N:** This piece was inspired by the wonderful story by darthsydious, "Uncle Mycroft", where there's an AU piece about Mary surviving the shot, and Molly confronting John about blaming Sherlock. So this is what I think would happen if Molly had the courage to confront John after Mary died. I'm thinking of doing another part, which will include Sherlock, and Culverton Smith. Yay or nay?


End file.
